


away with me awhile

by sakuraba



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom/sub, Drabble, M/M, Praise Kink, subbing as a platonic coping mechanism, very scant very light hints of some kind of? big brother kink? i'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-10 01:29:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15280587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakuraba/pseuds/sakuraba
Summary: Saihara needs to unwind. Amami helps.





	away with me awhile

**Author's Note:**

> i was going to publish this anonymously because my friends are going to absolutely lobotomize me with shame for this but let's be realistic if they see this they're gonna know who wrote it
> 
> i'm so sorry to oumami and saimota and the 38 femslash ships that were going to make my ao3 before this monstrosity somehow possessed my sinful hand

“C’mon,” Amami says. His voice is deceptively level, like his hips aren’t pulsing and his dick isn’t spilling into Saihara’s mouth. “Take it all for me, pretty boy, drink it down.”

And Saihara – chokes, working desperately to stay obedient even as his throat spasms in protest. Still, his hands stay fixed and steady on Amami’s hips, sweet little fingertip-bruises left in his wake. He wants this. He _needs_ this, needs to stay obedient, needs to hear Amami call him-–

“Good boy.” And all at once he’s being pulled up, up into Amami’s lap. His limbs go limp as a ragdoll’s in Amami’s arms. The way that Amami’s hands tangle and comb through his hair feels like heaven, and something slow and sleepy seeps into his blood like syrup. “Look at you. You’re so pretty for me, you know that? Always do such a good job for me.”

“Mm,” he manages, into Amami’s shoulder. It’s all he can get out, really. Amami’s touch is at its most hypnotic after sessions like this; his mind is soaked with warm static, and all he can focus on are the points of contact between his body and Amami’s, on trying to maximize the number thereof.

A little laugh bubbles in Amami’s throat. He spares a second to nuzzle back against Saihara’s hair, only to pull him back, ever-gently. “Hey,” he says, serene as usual. He brings a finger up to Saihara’s chin, drags it through the little spill of come dribbling from the corner of his mouth. “You make a little mess, pretty boy?”

Saihara’s tongue flickers out to lave Amami’s finger, pulls it into his mouth to suck it clean with single-minded fervency.

“Good.” Saihara’s eyelashes flutter at the praise. “Now what do you say...?”

His lips pucker a little to chase Amami’s retreating finger, but he knows better than to push. “…Thank you,” he says, dreamily, once Amami’s words catch up with him.

“Thank you…?” Amami parrots. His voice is gentle as ever, but the expectation is heavy in his voice.

“Thank you…” Saihara shudders, looks up at him through his lashes. _“Nii-sama.”_

A hand, ruffling through his hair. That rush, that opiated kind of burst into his bloodstream, the kind that leaves him smiling into and nuzzling a little into Amami's hand. "Good boy."


End file.
